Cold Case The Road
by EnglandCJP
Summary: A John Paul/Craig story based on a Cold Case episode. AU
1. Chapter 1

**I have no idea what the hell I am doing writing this. I know nothing about the inner workings of our police force and this is so not the genre I normally go for...so I'm thinking it might be a total disaster. God, there are also probably loads and loads of inaccuracies too, so read through your fingers. And yes the idea is totally stolen from a cold case episode I watched a few years back (just the story line though none of the characters)...with some alterations...so I guess that makes this AU. **

**Cold Case - The Road**

**Chapter 1**

Detective John Paul McQueen sat at his desk and glared through tired eyes at the half closed door that separated him from the man who was his boss, before glancing back at the endless unopened files that sat in neat piles around him. Running his hands through his hair he almost growled in frustration. It wasn't so much that he'd been called back in off the case he'd been working on for weeks that pissed him off, or that his surveillance shifts had been handed over to a colleague two years his junior, or even that he was given the mindless job of skimming through endless bits of information looking for tenuous links to help solve the crime they were investigating...Oh no, it was the way the smug bastard sat ensconced in his God-like office had done it. He was hardly Mr Sensitive at the best of times, but normally his direct, stubborn ass approach suited John Paul. He loved that he was harder on him than the others, that he pushed him to find his limits. That made him better at his job and earned him the respect of the fellow members of the team. But this was different...this was fucking embarrassing.

Slamming open a folder from the nearest pile, he tried to make himself feel better, by muttering under his breath all the names he could think of that summed up the arrogant prick he had to kowtow to, at work anyway. The fact he was aware of the amused looks coming his way from other personnel in the squad room only served to feed his growing bad temper. That and the knowledge he was probably being unreasonable...but hell being dragged back to desk duty to keep him out of trouble for a week rankled. Who did he think he was...his fucking minder? Deciding he needed a break, he kicked back his chair and rose to his feet, his tempestuous blue eyes daring anyone to make a comment.

He was half way out the room before the sound of his name being called stopped him in his tracks.

"McQueen, get your arse in here."

Shit. Taking a deep breath and trying desperately to school his features into a semblance of professional calm, he turned and stepped into the office he had just passed.

"Close the door."

Obeying the command with the unconscious grace of movement that he did everything, he shut out the rest of the world and brought his eyes back to the man leaning casually against the front of his desk.

"Have you got a problem with the job you've been assigned, McQueen?"

Biting back the sarcastic retort, he kept his voice painfully respectful. "No, sir." His body tensed as he watched the other push himself more upright, the lean whipcord strength of his limbs, making John Paul swallow nervously.

"You sure about that?" The voice was demanding but John Paul heard the hint of laughter hidden beneath and had to force himself not to react, although his shoulders stiffened even more.

"Yes, sir, completely sure." For a moment he thought he saw a softening in the eyes that had him pinned...but it was fleeting and like a mirage it fluttered away as if it had never been. Left in its place was a cool determination.

"You take too many god damn risks...and this isn't the week to do it. So suck it up for a while, yeah?"

"I'm getting engaged for God's sake, it's not exactly saving Private Ryan...sir." He laughed, the bastard actually laughed. Calling on every ounce of his training, John Paul let the sound wash over him, his only visible reaction the gathering storm clouds in his eyes.

"Maybe your future husband just wants you to turn up to the party without cuts, bruises and broken bones for once." For a split second they allowed their eyes to meet and John Paul felt his anger and frustration subside...a notch.

The shrill ringing of the phone cut through the moment as with a flick of a head towards the incident room, John Paul was dismissed. Half aware of the low tone behind him accepting the call, he was surprised when he was stopped again, as his hand reached for the door.

"I'll see you tonight...don't be late...Oh and John Paul, cut the attitude!"

Not bothering to reply, John Paul kept his eyes deliberately turned forwards as he quietly left the office, a half smile tugging at his lips. He fucking hated him.

The engagement party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing freely. Craig watched in amusement as Steph floated through the crowds, video camera in hand, charmingly haranguing guests to pass on their thoughts and well wishes for the 'happy' couple, to be captured for ever on film. As her gaze passed over him he gave her a warning shake of the head which made her roll her eyes before moving on to find a different victim. Smiling, Craig settled back happily into his corner, pleased to hide away for a while.

Leaning back against the wall, Craig suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Shifting his attention, he found himself returning the smile of the man who had appeared at his side. Seeing the drink held out to him, he mouthed his gratitude before gesturing back towards his sister.

"So dare I ask if you've had the chance to grace our video with your presence and undoubted words of wisdom yet?"

Spike gave him an innocent look. "Just told the world how you took the man of my dreams away from me...but I managed to wish you well through gritted teeth...I think."

Craig gave him an amused look in return. "Was John Paul actually ever yours for me to steal?"

"Well no." Spike breathed a tortured sigh. "But a stalker can dream, can't he?"

Craig bit back his laughter. "So now you're telling me you've been stalking my boyfriend? You do know what I do for a living right?"

"As long as you have John Paul arrest me, I'm happy. Him, me and a pair of handcuffs, Jesus the possibilities are endless!"

Shaking his head at the unwanted image that John Paul's oldest friend had planted in his mind, Craig gave an exaggerated look of horror. "You're a sick, sick man...you know that don't you..." His reply was cut short by the loud clinking of a glass that cut through the music, followed by a voice shouting across the heads of friends and family.

"Listen up...who's the Einstein that left their car lights on...Audi RV07 003...?"

Craig looked round, already knowing the answer, until his eyes came to rest on the man who had changed his life. Seeing the hand that John Paul raised in acknowledgement that the car was his and hearing the laughter that followed, made Craig determined not to let him live this down too soon. Expectantly, he waited until blue eyes swung his way. Raising his bottle, he held it towards him in a mock salute to his forgetfulness, watching as he gave a self depreciating smile back. Fuck he was beautiful. And he was his. They'd had to overcome some barriers to get here, fight prejudice at times, especially at work...but as John Paul made his way over to where he was standing Craig knew he wouldn't have changed a thing. He didn't give a fuck about others, what he wanted he went after...and he'd wanted John Paul like nothing else in his life before. He could feel the heat in his body igniting just thinking about what wanting him had lead to. For a few moments no one else in the room existed. Craig let his gaze shift, taking in the way the suit John Paul was wearing moulded itself perfectly to the toned body beneath. Feeling a familiar tightening in his groin, he forced his eyes back up. Loving the slight blush of colour that his hungry look had caused he held out a hand, as John Paul reached him.

"Give me the keys, I'll go." His voice came out husky, needy. Fucking hell he had it bad. His only consolation was that John Paul was equally screwed. Sensing hesitation, Craig raised his eyebrows. John Paul shuffled a little beneath the questioning look, before grinning meaningfully.

"I errr have a few things in the car...a surprise for later that I don't want you to see."

Shit. His cock reacted. Grabbing a fistful of shirt he pulled John Paul in closer, letting him feel what his words had done to him. He growled, low and soft. "I could order you fucking home right now, McQueen. Screw the party...screw later!"

The subtle dominance in the words made John Paul shiver. "Except we're not at work now...sir. So you can order all you like, doesn't mean I'll listen." Leaning forwards, never taking his eyes from the smouldering brown ones before him, he defiantly bit down on Craig's bottom lip.

The challenge was deliberate and Craig's eyes narrowed dangerously.

The sound of Spike dramatically clearing his throat cut through the sexual tension and had them both reluctantly glancing his way. His pained 'must you' expression made them both laugh.

"Okay I'm going...won't be long." John Paul brushed his lips over Craig's slightly parted ones, a satisfied smile on his mouth at the soft moan only he got to hear. Winking at Spike he walked away.

"Shit, I hate you, you lucky bastard." Spike's petulant whine brought Craig back to reality. Grinning he threw his arm around the other's shoulder and steered him purposefully towards the bar.

"Yeah, yeah...join the queue. Now come on I owe you a drink."

It was almost half an hour later when Craig started to give into the sense that something was wrong. John Paul should have been back by now. Scanning the crowds he tried to tell himself he was being stupid, paranoid, but a sick feeling was creeping through him. "Something's not right." His whispered words carried towards Spike who gave him a searching look. Not bothering to explain he started to push himself through the crowds, Spike following close behind.

When they reached the dark stillness of the parking lot, Craig's heart was a tight pain in his chest. He knew he was probably being fucking ridiculous but it didn't stop the gut wrenching fear.

"John Paul." The sound of his own voice echoed back at him as he shouted through the shadows. "For fuck's sake...John Paul."

"There's no way he'd just disappear...I bet he just went to get something." Spike tried to offer reassurance but the almost feral look he got back had him falling silent.

"He's not upstairs and his car's still here...so you tell me what he fucking went to get?" Desperately Craig's

eyes scoured the rows of parked cars. "John Paul." His fear and frustration clear in his voice, he suddenly stopped dead as his eyes fell on a set of car keys on the ground. In all of his years as a detective he had never been afraid to face up to any scenario that he had stumbled into...but right now his head was screaming at him to not notice the discarded keys, to not notice the sticky red substance that coated them. What he didn't notice, couldn't be there, right? Instead he forced himself to find the empty place inside himself that he inhabited whilst tackling the worst of his job, the place where his emotions couldn't follow. Stepping forward, he instinctively pulled a tissue out from his pocket and bent down to reach for the keys. His face was like a death mask as he turned haunted eyes back up to Spike, the paleness of his skin a stark contrast to the bright red of the blood that coated the tissue in his hand.

"They're his...They're John Paul's keys!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay I guess now the case starts for real. **

**Chapter 2**

**6 months later**

The icy coldness in Craig Dean's eyes was a warning to everyone around him to keep this briefing professional. The haunted aura that surrounded him reminded them that this was also personal...so personal that the slightest slip up would probably end up with any one of them being drawn and quartered and hung out to dry. Not that any of the squad team needed that reminder, this was personal to all of them too...this was about one of their own.

"Okay...play the clip and give me what you have."

Not one of the detectives in the room wanted to acknowledge the underlying rawness of emotion that sat beneath the clipped order, instead they fell to doing their jobs the best they knew how...and prayed this time the lead would take them to something solid, give them some answers...however painful. With a flick of the remote the screen before them came to life.

"I really don't remember." The voice was almost mocking...too calm...too pleasant. The man all eyes were riveted on sat smiling back at them, his face nondescript, unremarkable. And yet he held their attention, his taunting awareness that this performance was for a different audience other than the officers interviewing him, making him compelling in a macabre way. "I mean if you say I was there I guess I was." His face leaned in closer to the camera as if he were trying to fix his gaze on a particular person not in the room with him. "His partner must be real broken up, bet he misses him."

At the slight hiss, the clip was quickly paused. For a moment no one spoke, it felt like the whole room was frozen. They were all aware of the man who battled to remain in control. Worried looks were passed between them until Sergeant Kehoe's voice broke through the paralysis.

"Do you recognise him at all, boss?"

Craig's eyes were locked on the frozen image that stared back at him as he slowly shook his head. "Where did the recording come from?" His voice held a forced detachment.

"Ted Hoffer, Chief Constable Derbyshire division sent it, pulled him over for a routine traffic violation, found illegal plates in the boot...it came back that not only was the car stolen it was one of three vehicles recorded as being in the direct vicinity of the club parking lot the night..." For a moment his voice faltered slightly. "The night Detective McQueen vanished." He passed the file over to Craig, his hand a little unsteady.

Taking the information, Craig ruthlessly shut down every emotion but pure determination and an almost obsessive calmness. His gut told him this simple brown packet held the answers; his experience told him that likely they wouldn't be good. The part of him that was broken, wanted to run, wanted to pretend that this lead wouldn't end up at a lifeless cold body, dumped somewhere like a piece of rubbish ... but he forced such thoughts away. He owed John Paul more than that. Fighting down rising bile he hardened his grief into a steel shell as he flicked through the stark white pages.

"Vehicle was reported stolen three nights before John Paul disappeared." Craig swallowed hard as he read from the sheets, letting the steel encase him further. "The blood found at the scene matched with a saliva sample from a cigarette offered to the suspect." His world shifted. He tried to stop it, he really did...but the whole fucking room swayed in front of him. The bastard, the fucking bastard...it was his blood. Once more his eyes swung to the flickering screen. John Paul had fought back, they'd already known that but somehow that pathetic, fucking excuse of a man had overpowered him, had taken him...had... Hell! He took a breath, deep and desperate...like breathing wasn't natural anymore. The screaming of his lungs matched the screaming in his head. This shouldn't be happening. John Paul was only fucking twenty six for God's sake...he should be here...breathing next to him...Oh God...he needed him to be breathing, just like he was forcing himself to do, every breath painful but instinctive. He gasped for oxygen again. Breathe, John Paul...for fucks sake you keep breathing, you hear me...be alive damn you.

"This nut job got a name?" Detective Natalie Whild's voice cut through his thoughts, gave him a lifeline back to reality. Desperately refocusing, he flicked back a page, daring his hand to shake.

"He calls himself Thomas Smith...but the name doesn't match up with his prints, his DNA or the driving licence that was found on him."

Sergeant Kehoe placed a supportive hand on Craig's shoulder for a moment before clearing his throat deliberately. "He's being moved down south tonight, we need a confession of some sort before he gets there." His eye shifted between the detectives present, his message clear. This wouldn't be above board. He gave Craig another look. "Who do you want to take the ride, Sir?"

Already Craig was closing the file, his face daring anyone to argue. "I'll go." Not giving anyone time to voice an objection he stared over at his team, who all eyed him back calmly. Thinking the presence of a female officer might work to their advantage he made his choice. "Whild, you'll come with me." Half way to the door, he turned back once more. "Keep following up anything else we have...You know..." For a moment he took in every member of his squad. "Your efforts are appreciated, okay." Ignoring the gruffness of his own voice, he opened the door for Whild and followed her out.

John Paul stared sightlessly ahead into the darkness. His half naked body shivered slightly and he instinctively curled in on himself, finding the foetal position. The only light that had once crept into the small, sparsely furnished room had been extinguished days ago, as the last brick had been cemented into place in the far wall. Weak as the light had been, it had at least given some comfort, some hope...but now he wasn't sure he had any.

He lay on a narrow metal bed; its thin mattress and even thinner blanket the only other things of comfort he had in the living tomb he found himself in. He shifted listlessly, trying to ignore the metal chain that kept him shackled by his ankle, like a dog. It allowed him free movement to the small cracked sink, to the toilet...yet its presence chained his mind much more effectively. But he fought it, just like he had fought against everything in his life, with a stubborn, single minded determination. He was a McQueen.

But he was losing this battle.

The thought crept through his mind, insidious, sapping his strength. He pushed against it but it only retreated so far and he knew it waited in the shadows. It could be patient; it had time on its side. Almost instinctively, he lifted one hand to let his fingers brush over the scratched markings he had studiously made on the bricks above his head, rows and rows of them in tallies of five. Time...neatly mapped out. No longer clear if he was marking the days he remained alive or if he was counting down to his death, there was still a strange comfort to them. They proved he existed...that he was alive... that he still held a place anchored in reality. He blinked back tears. Hating his weakness he tiredly let his arm drop back down. Having nothing else to focus on, he allowed the tune that seemed to constantly play inside his head to sooth him. The world may have forgotten him but he still knew it was there. Softly he began to hum.

As the muted, disjointed notes of his own voice lulled him towards an uneasy sleep, he allowed himself to forget the fierce hunger that now gripped his insides, and the gnawing fear that he had been deserted. It had been days now since his abductor had come. Scared of his own helplessness and his total isolation, he found his mind going to the one place that held any joy, the one place where he could ignore the hell that his existence had become. Letting go of the present he slipped back into his other world, a world where strong arms held him and softly whispered words settled his soul.

Still humming brokenly, he reached for Craig...and as always he was there, giving him the strength to take another breath, to live for just one more day...even if it was only to enjoy the memory of what they were, what they could have been. His lips fluttered into a brief smile as he remembered. Even in the beginning there had been something between them, a connection. Wrapping his arms about his stomach he fought the pain of missing him by escaping to where he was.

_God it was hot outside. John Paul could almost feel the heavy humidity of it still, even as he stepped inside the room he'd been directed to. He bloody hoped the air conditioning was switched up high. Looking round at the busy faces, he tried to get a feel for the new division he'd been assigned to. The detective team he was to be a part of had the reputation of being the toughest and hardest working in the force and he was desperate to make a good first impression. Aware of a few eyes on him, he tried to hide his nervousness behind a cool facade._

_Finally, he was taken pity on, and a door at the end of the corridor was pointed out to him. As he made his way through what he hoped would be his future workplace, he tried to ignore the joking comments about entering at his own risk and to watch out because this was one boss whose bite was definitely worse than his bark. As he reached the door he gave them what he hoped was a confident smile. Knocking firmly, he took a deep breath and waited for the voice telling him to enter. John Paul had done his homework. He knew that Craig Dean, at twenty-nine was one of the youngest Squad leaders in the force, his reputation for being a hard task master and an all round cocky bastard going before him. But he'd also heard that somehow he seemed to inspire unconditional loyalty from those that worked for him. He definitely didn't suffer fools gladly. Knowing there wouldn't be any second chances if he screwed this up, John Paul wiped suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of his trousers and stepped inside. _

_Seeing the lone occupant of the room, sat head bent, seemingly engrossed in some papers on his desk, John Paul closed the door behind him and walked forwards. Not sure what he was expected to do, he stood uncomfortably for a while, while the man continued reading from an open file. Apart from the terse command to enter no other words had been spoken and John Paul could feel his nervousness increasing. Each minute he stood, ignored, felt like ten. Finally not knowing what else to do he cleared his throat deliberately and thrust out his hand towards the man who hadn't even looked at him yet._

_"Detective John Paul McQueen, sir."_

_"Really...Now do you want to tell me something I don't know?"_

_He never even raised his head, leaving John Paul to awkwardly lower his hand. Embarrassment was joined by a slow simmering anger. The condescending tosser! Fighting to keep his composure it took him a few seconds to realise that the folder was being carefully shut. The eyes that were suddenly raised to his own made him catch his breath. Jesus! What he hadn't been told was that Craig Dean was as hot as fuck! It felt like he had taken a punch to the stomach. Dazed he could only stare back._

_"So are you as reckless as your records describe you as being?" _

_The cool disdain in the words brought John Paul crashing back to reality. "Reckless, sir?" Christ, did he have to sound so stupid!_

_The other man continued as if nothing else had been said. "Because the last thing I need is another arrogant prick looking for his moment of glory, putting the rest of my team at risk in the process."_

_Whatever reaction John Paul had felt before was nothing to the rage that swept through him now. Drawing a slow breath in, his reply almost crackled with heat as words poured from him. "I've never put anyone in danger in my life and the only risks I take are calculated ones. I work hard and keep my head down. And I think if any one here has the reputation of being an arrogant prick, it's not me." As soon as the words left his mouth John Paul felt himself go pale. Shit. Shit. Shit! This could be the shortest career in history. The silence in the room was deafening. "I never meant...fuck!" He raked his fingers through his hair. The dark look that he received gave him nowhere to hide and as if everything wasn't bad enough already he felt himself blushing under the close scrutiny. Trying to regain some composure, some pride he held his head up. "I'm sorry, sir...I spoke without thinking."_

_"Jesus, spare me the apology... if you've got something to say... say it. That's one of the reasons you're here...I was told you don't hesitate to speak your mind." John Paul stared hard at the man he had just insulted, watching him with caution as he leaned back casually in his chair, letting his jacket fall open to reveal a crisp white shirt beneath. "As for the reckless bit, I think the official wording was brave...but I'm reserving judgement on that." He let his eyes travel over John Paul as if weighing him up. "I hand picked you and I hate to be proved wrong so you better make sure you're worth the trouble."_

_He had been brought here because the mighty Craig Dean had noticed him? Reeling from the revelation, John Paul couldn't help the smile that crept across his lips."I'll be worth it...I promise, you won't regret anything." The intensity of the look he was given made the adrenaline that was already rushing through his body go into overdrive. _

_"You did just call me an arrogant prick, right?"John Paul caught the fleeting humour behind the unwavering stare. "You know for someone who says he likes to keep his head down, you're doing a pretty good job of getting noticed. I think I'm fucking regretting you already."_

_John Paul's smile turned into a fully fledged grin. " I guess I'm an acquired taste."_

_"Is that so?" For a while neither spoke and John Paul could feel his heart racing as their eyes remained locked. "Speaking of which..." Pushing his chair back, Craig stood up and nodded towards the door. "Have you eaten yet? I'm going to the canteen if you're hungry. It'll be a good chance for you to meet some of the others."_

_"Okay...great." _

_Again something subtle seemed to pass between them but this time John Paul didn't even try to analyse it. Even after he'd left his office all he could think about was that finally someone seemed to see something in him and he'd die before he misplaced that trust. The fact he found him attractive he tried to ignore, knowing nothing would come of it...but it sure as hell made life interesting._

As he tossed and turned in his sleep, John Paul hung on to those feelings...Craig still had his loyalty, his love. He believed in him. Instinctively pulling up the thin blanket around his shoulders, his body shifted restlessly, as if searching for a different kind of warmth, searching for that other body to wrap itself around. For a moment his eyes partially opened, glazed with confusion at the emptiness of his bed...before reality crashed over him in waves, leaving him with an aching loss deep inside for something that had been cruelly snatched away.

As silent tears fell unnoticed, he gave way to sleep once more, whilst somewhere in the distance bells tolled, marking the passing of another day.

Being led to the holding cells was almost torture for Craig, needing both to meet this man and dreading having to look into his face at the same time. Hatred and fear battled for dominance beneath the surface of the mask he wore.

"All the paperwork's sorted, so he's ready to go when you are." The police officer was handing Detective Whild the relevant sheets. "He shouldn't cause you any problems; he's been acting all polite, well mannered...fucking creepy if you ask me. Anyway we put him out here for you." As they rounded the corner they saw a figure, half bent over in a chair. "Get up, Smith, Detectives Dean and Whild are here to pick you up."

The words faded into background noise as Craig's eyes met those of the man whose blood had been all over John Paul's keys. Holding himself in, knowing how crucial the next few hours were going to be, he calmly weighed up his adversary. If there was any chance, however remote that John Paul was still alive; he had to break this son of a bitch.

"I think the man told you to get up." Craig watched dispassionately as 'Thomas Smith' struggled to rise, hampered by cuffs to both his hands and his feet.

"It's not easy with these things on." His voice was almost melodic, nauseatingly so...as if he was taunting them somehow.

"They're not supposed to be comfortable...Just move."

Mocking eyes held his for a moment as he shuffled past and Craig had to fight the urge to vomit. He was definitely playing with them.

But he could play all he liked, tonight the bastard was his.


	3. Chapter 3

Hope you enjoy x

**Chapter 3**

The night was foul, with a steady rain hammering against the windscreen but Craig welcomed it, not only did it suit his mood but it also gave them a valid reason to slow their journey down even more. It had already been decided they would do the driving in shifts, Detective Whild doing the first couple of hours and that they'd take it steady, not wanting to hand over their suspect too quickly. Taking a glance over his shoulder, Craig broke the heavy silence first.

"So have you got a real name ... or do we have to keep up the pretence of calling you Thomas Smith?" He kept his voice even.

"What makes you think I'm going to talk to you?" The voice from the shadows in the back of the car made Craig's skin crawl. His hand at the side of his seat clenched.

Keeping her eyes on the road, Natalie was the one to respond. "Perhaps because you know you don't have to. With the blood and DNA, we already have enough to put you away; we don't need you to say anything."

"Then why are we taking the scenic route if you don't want something from me...unless you want to find a body?"

Craig tensed and he was glad of the darkness that hid his reaction, glad that it gave him time to fight the nausea that threatened. He knew instinctively that the gauntlet had just been thrown down and looking in the mirror he could see the look of satisfaction on Smith's face, as if he knew the game between them had just started for real.

Whild continued, her voice almost sympathetic, cajoling as she tried to open him up, establish a connection with him. "Maybe we're giving you a chance to help yourself...co-operate and we could talk to our lawyers, see what we can do."As Craig glanced her way, she gave him a subtle reassuring smile, her eyes showing her confidence in him. He forced his body to relax.

"So how did you do it Tom? ...You don't mind me calling you Tom right?" Craig shifted round even more to fix him with his eyes. "I mean taking a child's one thing...but an adult...someone like John Paul...he would have fought back, right?"

"You detectives are all the same, you see the world in a certain way, the way you want it to work...Maybe you're seeing it all wrong." Craig watched the man he was trying to get answers from stare out of the window, the passing lights flickering over his pale skin. "I guess you never quite know how people will react, do you?" He turned slightly, giving Craig a patronizing look. "Maybe you're not seeing all the pieces in the puzzle...yet."

For a moment the car was silent, tense.

"We know he fought you...It was your blood at the scene." Craig turned back to stare out at the moonless night, his heart a dull ache in his chest.

"Why would anybody fight me?" Smith's voice was a lazy drawl. "I don't exactly look threatening, just your average guy that you see down the supermarket. People don't see any reason to fight me..." The soft sound of his laughter grated on Craig's nerves. "Well not perhaps until it's too late."

...

Images wouldn't leave John Paul alone as he thrashed about on the bed, his fevered body fighting the memories that he wanted to forget. The reality of that night always came back to haunt him, but in his nightmares it became disjointed, blurred...out of sync. Always it was dark, and he was alone...nothing in his vision except headlights that blinded him. He knew there was somewhere else he wanted to be but always he seemed to be trapped there, wandering in the darkness through endless rows of cars.

As he slept he whimpered, knowing what was coming next, wanting desperately to wake up. His brain was screaming at him...trying to warn him, to tell him he was in danger...but Jesus he was too happy, too distracted to listen. And then he heard the voice...

Sitting bolt upright, panting heavily... he opened his eyes.

His body was covered in sweat, shaking. Clutching the blanket around him he shivered as he rested his head wearily back on the wall. But as always the images pursued him relentlessly, wouldn't leave him alone. He shook his head as if trying to free himself from that voice, from the face he could see...

_"Excuse me." A man stepped out in front of him._

_"Shit, you made me jump."_

_The man laughed apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you...it's just I was wondering if you could help me." For a moment he looked embarrassed. "My wife sent me out for ice cream... She's six months pregnant, so I couldn't really say no." He gave a wry smile. "...and can you believe my damn car has broken down." He gestured to the car with the bonnet up. "Do you mind if I use your mobile to call for a tow, I was in the middle of talking to them when my phone died?"_

_"You could use the phone inside." It wasn't that John Paul didn't want to help the guy it was just he wanted to get back._

_"Hey, its John Paul isn't it...we ran part of the London Marathon together...same charity remember?"_

_John Paul sighed. He had to admit he did look familiar._

_"You're in the police force right?" The stranger's open smile seemed genuine._

_Feeling like a prick for being so unhelpful, John Paul fished a hand inside his pocket before handing over his phone. "You don't mind hurrying it up do you, it's just the party over there ... I have someone waiting for me." He gestured towards the club._

_"Oh God...sure." Impatiently, John Paul watched as he tapped in a number and began talking into the phone. "Hi, it's Thomas Smith again I spoke to you before about a break down...hang on, one minute." Catching John Paul's eye the man nodded again towards his car. "You wouldn't mind giving the engine another try would you while I pass on my details, just to make sure?"_

_John Paul bit back a groan. He could hardly say no could he, besides he had to wait for his phone. He glanced longingly back at the club...God knows what Spike would be telling Craig by now, no doubt some mortifying story that involved John Paul being naked, drunk or throwing up...in fact knowing Spike, he'd probably manage to include all three. Fighting a smile, he couldn't help but be amazed at the unlikely friendship that had sprung up between the two favourite men in his life, even if it did make him nervous. Distracted he put the keys in the ignition, surprised when the engine kicked into life first time. "Hey..." John Paul shouted over the noise. "Hey it works."_

_Just as he turned to get back out of the car a cloth was roughly forced against his face, covering his mouth and nose. Instinctively he reached out, to grab at the hands holding it in place but the fact the other body was leaning in over him gave him very little leverage. He tried not to breathe in as he began to claw at the face above him, his arms, anything. Feeling himself weakening, he reached into his pocket for his own car keys and desperately tried stabbing upwards with them hating the unnatural lethargy spreading through his limbs, as his body was pinned further back against the seat._

_His chest began to burn until he was forced to breathe in more deeply. The smell of the cloth made him gag and with growing horror he felt his eyes begin to lose focus, his body become useless. The face grinning down at him began to fade as he felt his keys slip from his fingers and he was plunged into oblivion._

Shit, clutching his knees to his chest, John Paul took weak, rasping breaths. No matter how many times he relived it, the horror of that night never lessened. Those things just didn't happen to someone like him. He was fit, healthy...worked out...and he was a fucking detective for god's sake...how did he allow himself to walk into something like that? Futile regret and self loathing seeped through him, leaving him feeling drained, defeated. Resting his head down on the top of his knees, he rocked gently back and forth, lost.

...

The miles were steadily being eaten up and as Craig glanced at his watch he was aware that time was their enemy right now. He knew the night was racing by too quickly, that he needed every second he could with this arsehole...but in contrast to that need he was also aware that if John Paul was still alive he couldn't afford to slow this down too much. They'd had this bastard locked up for nearly three days now...and unless he had a partner, which they had no reason to believe he had, John Paul could have been left anywhere, with no food, no water. For him time could be running out fast! Feeling his frustration rising, he tried again to break through Smith's arrogant outer shell. "So why did you do it Thomas...why take him?"

"Ahhhh...the million dollar question." For a while it didn't seem like he would give them any more but then he shifted forwards, his face moving out of the shadows. "Life's all about finding out what makes a person weak, vulnerable, finding their soft spot, don't you think? There's a certain beauty to it, an art in being able to strip everything away from someone." His voice was soft, almost hypnotic, compelling. Suddenly he changed tack. "I wonder what your weakness is detective, what makes you vulnerable?"

His weakness? Almost against his will, Craig closed his eyes and all he could see was John Paul...so many pictures. John Paul sprawled on the bed, his eyes heavy, full of a need only he could satisfy, John Paul jogging beside him through the misty grey dawn as they trained together, he could see him glaring at him from his desk the morning of the party, his expression promising retribution... and then...their last kiss...beautifully fleeting... their last conversation, promises made for a night they never got to live. He shifted in his seat, as he slowly lifted his eyes to the road they were travelling, trying not to give anything away to the man sat behind. His one weakness...John Paul McQueen.

For a moment he thought about the DVD he'd found on the back seat of John Paul's car the night he'd gone missing. It seemed he'd secretly had it made, a compilation professionally put together of all their moments, both before and after they'd met...At the time finding it, having to sit through it had been a nightmare...but now those clips were one of his most treasured possessions.

One of them, one that he'd actually filmed himself, haunted him more than most. Thinking about the future that one piece of footage represented, the future the man behind had snatched away, he fought the urge to reach back and physically wipe that sanctimonious look from his face. He'd pushed to know his soft spot? Well, he wished he could let him know he'd found it, by slamming his fists into his taunting mouth again and again. Instead, still seeing the clip in his mind, he put Thomas Smith firmly out of his thoughts, put himself out of his reach.

_"Hey John Paul, turn round will you...your ass might be cute but I need that smile of yours." The crowds were pushing against them as they both tried to get their breath back. Running the London marathon was something John Paul had always wanted to do, Craig not so much...but now they'd crossed the finishing line he was determined to capture the moment._

_"What was our time?" John Paul was bent over, desperately drawing air into his lungs._

_"Three hours, fifty two minutes...Is that good?"_

_"Fuck knows...but you know what...we did it."_

_Still filming, Craig laughed. John Paul's enthusiasm for life was infectious at times._

_"Hey, Craig." Looking through his camera at him Craig saw his face suddenly become more serious. "You know if ever I had any doubts about what we're capable of me and you...I just have to think of everything we've been through and well..." Still watching him on the small screen Craig saw his head go down for a moment as if he was gathering himself._

_"John Paul?"_

_Slowly...oh so slowly his eyes lifted. Craig's hand shook slightly at the intense look he was given. Tying to keep the camera steady, he couldn't help but notice the nervous pulse at the side of John Paul's throat and he felt himself swallow painfully before he looked back up. John Paul's eyes held him captive. He was vaguely aware of him peeling off his number from the front of his shirt and when he dragged his gaze away from his face, he saw him deliberately turn it round. The word __FOREVER? was printed in black marker pen at the top and under it in smaller letters, MARRY ME?_

_"Jesus." Craig could hear the waver in his own voice._

_"Will you?" The look on John Paul's face was both vulnerable and yet at the same time challenging...daring Craig to say no. It was his eyes however that once again held Craig. If ever he doubted that he was loved by this man what he saw reflected in their depths wiped those fears away. They were love personified and the small part of his heart that he'd held back, that he had never given anyone, was lost right there and then._

_Narrowing his eyes though, he let nothing show on his face. "Fucking hell, McQueen...nice to see my initial assessment of you stands...an impetuous prick who takes risks!"_

_"What!"_

_God, he loved him. "Besides..." He paused, his expression still serious. "What about all the knobs at work who still think I'm straight?" He saw the flash of uncertainty that John Paul couldn't hide and he smiled softly, finally letting his own love show. "I'm messing you idiot...I was going to ask you." He cupped his face with his free hand, his voice becoming tender. "I wanted to ask you!"_

_"Is that a yes?" The words were hopeful._

_"Of course it's a yes, you ass."_

_John Paul grinned, and stepped towards him..._

The buzzing of his mobile brought him crashing back to reality so fast, his heart felt torn. He had to breathe deeply a few times before he felt coherent enough to accept the call. "What's up, Kehoe?"

"We've hit a lead. We found the owner of the car Smith was driving, one Eileen Phillips, said she reported the car stolen eight months ago. Seems she's gotten four parking tickets in the time it's been gone, all issued in the same area of London. Looks like he's been going back to the same place and parking up long enough to get fined, I've sent Morgan and Fuller out to see if they can find out why. We're thinking it might be his neighbourhood or..." The sudden pause had Craig finishing off what the other man didn't want to say.

"His dumping ground."

"Yep."

Craig leaned his head against the top of his phone for endless seconds before finishing the call. "Let me know the minute you find out anything." Hearing the rustle of chained cuffs as Smith shifted, Craig concentrated on pushing the phone back in his pocket. Signalling to Natalie to pull over, he decided now was a good time to swap drivers, maybe...just maybe, having his hands on the wheel would stop him from beating the shit out of the man who was in his custody and who for now was still his best hope of finding John Paul...alive or dead.

...

Sitting back against the damp wall, John Paul heard the peeling of the bells and almost automatically lifted the small stone he held, twisting himself round slightly so he could begin scratching it back and forth, up and down against the brick beside his head. Unable to see the mark he was making in the pitch blackness or even where it was in relation to the others, he still continued, somehow knowing that just the simple act of doing it meant that he was still hanging on, that somewhere deep inside himself something still battled to survive.

As soon as the bells stopped he dropped the stone onto his bed and just pressed himself back even more, feeling a strange sense of calm descending on him. His mind seemed more lucid right now, his thoughts less fragile. For the first time in ages he felt like he had some of himself back, parts of him that he thought he'd lost.

Tilting his head back further, he let the darkness become his friend, no longer fighting it. He let it sooth him and instead of shutting his eyes and projecting inwards, this time he let his memories flow out, let them dance in front of his eyes, his family, his friends...one after the other, forming a rainbow of faces that he could almost reach out and touch. If it felt like a goodbye he didn't acknowledge it, he was just happy to not feel so alone. And scattered amongst the others was Craig. So many snapshots of things they'd done together in such a short space of time. He wanted to step inside each one, to live them again. He didn't regret any of them. And, if this was all he was to get, then it would be enough, knowing Craig, having him in his life would always be worth it. He loved him. Smiling a little, he tried to think back, tried to pinpoint the moment that they became friends, the moment they began. His smile turned into a soft laugh...he guessed the night he got drunk was as good a place as any to start.

_The club was buzzing and John Paul was following its lead. The team worked hard but fuck they played hard too and John Paul could hit the highs with the best of them. True he let the others do the chasing after skirts, well apart from Natalie who actually had a similar taste in men to him. He grinned, trying to decide whether that was a good thing or not...especially as she was a damn sight more beautiful than he was and probably had better legs. Not that anyone knew of his preferences as such. He was still feeling his feet as the newest member of the squad and he knew from experience that the police force wasn't always the most open minded about such things. Mind you then again he hadn't actually gone out of his way to hide it either. _

_Stumbling slightly up the stairs as the amount of alcohol in his system started to hit, he swore softly. An arm came out and steadied him. Looking down at the man who stood a step below, whose hand was now at his waist, he grimaced slightly. Great, how to impress the boss, McQueen!_

_"Enjoying yourself?"_

_Peering down into his eyes John Paul tried to detect any trace of sarcasm in the seemingly innocent question but instead found himself drowning. Fuck he was good looking._

_"Beats working." He gave him his best smile."Sir."_

_"Cute, John Paul..." Craig drew himself level with him before whispering in his ear. "...but call me sir again while we're out and I'll deck you. Now move your ass, you can buy me a drink."_

_John Paul found himself propelled forwards towards the bar. "Why the hell am I the one buying, you earn twice as much as I do?" His mouth formed a sulky pout._

_"New guy's privilege...I'll have a beer thanks."_

_Craig gave him an amused look. The bastard knew how drunk he was and John Paul sensed he was laughing at him...he could see it in his gorgeous fucking eyes. "God I hate being the rookie." Raising his hand he tried to catch the bar staff's attention._

_"Ah but you do it so well."Leaning back against the bar Craig waited for John Paul to get served, nodding his thanks as a bottle was passed over to him. Lifting it to his lips he drank thirstily._

_"How come I get stuck with the boss anyway, is that a new guy's privilege too?"_

_Craig choked on his beer, swiping at his chin as the cold liquid ran from his mouth. This time it was John Paul who gave the smug look as he patted him on the back._

_"Problem, sir?"_

_For a moment they just stared at each other before both started laughing. Seeing him sway slightly, Craig indicated some free seats and led John Paul to sit down. "Of all the squads in all the world...you fucking had to join mine didn't you?"_

_"Hey, you told me you wanted me." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, John Paul wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Seeing Craig lean in closer he felt his mouth go dry, especially when his eyes seemed to devour him as he moved in._

_"John Paul..."_

_Jesus, he could feel his breath on his neck as his head dipped a little lower towards his ear. Breathing became impossible_

_"I lied."_

_And then he withdrew, just like that, leaving John Paul floundering._

_"Oh God, your face." Craig reached out and ruffled his hair, deliberately condescending. Seeing the dark look he got in return, he grinned. Shit, he could wind him up all day...he was as cute as fuck when he was pissed off. "Christ, John Paul don't ever go into intelligence, people would be able to read you like a book with one glance. Your eyes give away everything."_

_John Paul went red, reaching for his beer, his muttered 'screw you' almost lost as he lifted the bottle, and swallowed desperately. What did he mean he could read him? Scared of what he had allowed his face to show he pretended to scan the room, faking a sudden interest in what the others were doing._

_"My round I think." Aware that Craig was standing, John Paul gave him a slightly tentative look from beneath his lashes. Still seeing the open amusement in the other's eyes, he groaned before shaking his head in defeat. "Sod the beer...make mine a double vodka, I think I'm going to need it."_

_Laughing, Craig nodded beginning to step past him. As he went to move away, he paused "Oh just so you know, my honest answer to what you said before is I do...more than I've ever wanted anything." His parting words had John Paul staring after him, his mouth gaping open in stunned disbelief._

_What the hell was that? Unable to fully process what had just happened, his shocked expression faded slightly as his eyes fell to the arse walking away from him, encased perfectly in tight black denim. Heat swept through him, making his groin ache. He was in deep trouble here and suddenly a double vodka didn't seem nearly enough to save him!_

Breathing hurt... thinking about him made breathing hurt. He punched his fist against the walls of his prison. The world was out there, he was out there...solid, real...while down here, John Paul could feel himself fading away, a forgotten shadow in the darkness. He was becoming...nothing! Again the breath he took stung. What he wouldn't give to feel solid again, to live that night again...to live any night with him again.

"Craig." He said his name softly, hating that it almost sounded strange now on his lips. How long since he had last said it out loud? He whispered it again. And something in him broke, shattered the fragments of the person he used to be. And as his soul flew, that one word, his name echoing in the darkness, captured the pieces of him and held them safe.

Shivering, hugging the remnants of that night close to his shattered psyche, he curled himself back up on the mattress...and slept.

...


End file.
